


Corruptible Mortals and Monsters

by Surreal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Background Relationships, Canon Typical Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Monster of the Week, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), no death of canon characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:39:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4410605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Surreal/pseuds/Surreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sheriff and Derek are spending more and more time together and Stiles begins to feel left out. Meanwhile, people are starting to go missing around town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corruptible Mortals and Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the artist who inspired this story, bicanthrope (tumblr) / sarcasticfishes (AO3). Link to art is at bottom of story.
> 
> Additional warnings in notes at end – notes will have major story spoilers but read if you think there may be triggers regarding standard horror / monster mythology themes, specifically related to children.

**

“Oh, sorry kiddo, I’m meeting with Derek for lunch today. But you’re welcome to join us.” His dad’s voice comes over the phone. Stiles startles at the answer.

The thing is, Stiles didn’t even see it coming. It snuck up on him little by little ever since high school, once his dad joined the ranks of ‘people who _knew_.’ When his dad had realized the extent of what was going on his town and that Derek was one of the few who had substantial knowledge, the sheriff began seeking Derek out on his own: programmed Derek’s number into his cell for that quick text, swung by Derek’s loft on his way home from work now and then to “catch up.”

At 18 and taking online classes through the state college so he could stay close to home, Stiles had gotten up the nerve to ask Derek out on an actual date. Because two years of staring at that beautiful man and then gradually seeing how much of an honest-to-God _dork_ he was gave Stiles the courage to hope.

Now at 23 and working full time as the assistant librarian at the local library, his hope had paid off as he and Derek have been together for close to five years, married for just over two. Thanks to Derek’s family finances, they have themselves a lovely three-bedroom house close to the neighborhood where the Stilinski and McCall clans still lived. Melissa had moved in with the sheriff three years previously and left the McCall house to Scott and Kira, married with an 18-month old daughter. 

Derek himself works out of their garage as a for-hire woodcrafter; his supernaturally enhanced eyes and motor skills combined with an artist’s mentality provides him continuous requests for unique pieces. And being able to make his own schedule and stick close to home gives him the security he needs to relax into his role in the pack as lead beta to Scott’s alpha.

This also leads to him having plenty of free time with which to take up the sheriff on his requests for lunch appointments, consultations and what Stiles firmly believes are just hours of them sitting around and watching baseball while Stiles is at work.

“Oh,” is all Stiles can say in response to his father’s statement. “No, that’s fine. I’ll um…you know what, I’ve got some errands I wanted to take care of on my lunch break today while I’m in town. I’ll see you Friday night for dinner anyway, we can catch up then.”

“Sure, sounds good. Make sure Derek brings that potato bake of his,” the sheriff responds and Stiles can hear the smile in his voice.

Stiles feels his own smile grow tight at the reminder that his dad is looking forward to seeing them _both_. “I will.”

“Love you, son.”

“Love you too, Dad,” Stiles says, his smile softening to something more genuine. After he hangs up, he rubs at his stomach absently, wondering when that tight ache had started. It bothers him that he gets so worked up about this. He will always be grateful that his father and his husband get along so well, that they spend time together without Stiles needing to encourage it. But for so many years it was just him and his dad; he had had his father’s undivided familial attention for nearly a decade before he began dating Derek.

With a sigh, Stiles sticks his phone back in his pocket and eyes the pile of books on the desk next to him.

**

Derek hands Stiles the bowl of salad at dinner that night with a smile. “How was work?”

“Another fun filled day of book returns, new intake tagging and newspaper organizing,” Stiles answers as he adds a pile of greens to his plate. “How was lunch with my dad?”

Derek looks up sharply, eyebrows furrowed. “It was good,” he says after a pause. “How did you know I was having lunch with him today?”

Stiles shrugs and stares at his food, poking the meatloaf around with his fork. “Talked to him this morning to see if he wanted to get lunch with me. Said he had already made plans with you.”

“You should have joined us,” Derek tells him. “You know you’re always welcome.”

“It’s fine,” Stiles waves him off and stuffs a chunk of meat in his mouth. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Derek frowns and puts his fork down to lean forward. “Stiles – ”

“Drop it,” Stiles shoots him a look. “I said it’s fine.” 

Unable to come up with a response to his husband’s unusual outburst, all Derek can do is silently finish his meal. There is a sharp feeling of unease in his chest but he cannot think of a reason for Stiles to be angry with him so he chooses to let it go.

**

Later that night, Stiles is quiet as Derek thrusts into him smoothly, the years of practice making this part of their relationship easy and natural. Every sharp movement pushed the breath from his lungs and Stiles closes his eyes, knees tight against Derek’s ribs and fingers digging into the muscles of Derek’s shoulders. The pace picks up and he gasps, knows that exact moment where Derek is close when he feels the press of an open mouth against his collarbone, hot air against his damp skin and the rhythm of Derek’s hips faltering. A hand closes around his cock and Stiles’ back arches into the touch, his own hips jerk up into the tight fist and they both finish at nearly the same instant. 

They kiss lazily and Derek takes his time cleaning them both up. Small, familiar smiles and intimate whispers are exchanged as they settle; the earlier biting words and hidden worries forgotten in the wake of this reminder of their shared affection.

**

“So what’s new in the wacky world of law enforcement?” Stiles asks playfully on Friday night. Weekly dinners with his dad, Melissa, Derek and himself have been a thing for a few years. They don’t always make it happen but they all do their best to uphold the tradition.

The sheriff gives his usual long-suffering look at this son before tearing a roll in half. “We’re running low on parking ticket pads this month,” he responds with a smirk. “You wouldn’t know anything about that would you, kid?”

Stiles clutches his chest with an overly dramatic gasp. “Why, I never!” He grins at the look his father is giving him. “Okay, that’s a lie. In my sordid youth I confess I may have used them for nefarious purposes. Mostly to watch Mr. Harris’s blood pressure soar. But I promise I have not stolen one in years.”

Out of the corner of his eye Stiles can see Derek pressing the back of his wrist to his mouth to hide his smile. 

“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt this time,” the sheriff chuckles while pointing his butter knife at his son. Then his face sobers. “We might have a problem brewing, though, but it’s too early to know if there is any connection. A couple of people have gone missing in the last week. There’s not enough to start thinking it’s anything out of one of your books yet, but I might want Derek to come out with me to the missing folks’ homes to have a look around.” He turns to Derek with a serious expression. “See if you can pick up on something we’re not seeing.”

“Of course,” Derek agrees readily. “Just give me a call whenever you want to pick me up.”

“I’ll pick you up around one tomorrow afternoon and we can hit both places,” the Sheriff answers easily. “When we’re done, I’ll just drop you off at the library so you can get a ride home with Stiles.”

Derek nods and takes a drink of beer. “I’ll be ready.”

**

A few minutes before one in the afternoon the sheriff shows up at their house where Derek is waiting. Climbing into the car, Derek smiles as his father-in-law hands him a fresh cup of coffee from their favorite local shop. “Figured you might need some of this to get you through the next few hours. Need you on top of your game since we’ve got so little to go on with these cases.”

The first apartment provides no obvious visual clues but Derek immediately identifies a distinct, unsettling smell as soon as he walks in. “You said there was no body found here?”

The sheriff eyes him suspiciously. “That would be the definition of a missing person case, son.”

Derek rolls his eyes and mumbles, “Stilinskis.” Louder he says, “It smells like death here. Like…an old corpse.”

“Could it have been a previous inhabitant? I don’t know the history of this apartment or building, maybe someone died here in the past?”

“That’s possible either way but this is a fresh smell. It’s hard to explain. There was a rotting corpse here in the last couple of weeks, the smell hasn’t faded enough to be years old.” Derek wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“Well that is certainly a start,” the sheriff tells him. “Let’s head over to the other place, see if there’s anything strange there.”

At the house of the second missing person, Derek makes the same face as before. “Death. Definitely rotting human corpse, even more recent. Maybe a day or two?”

The sheriff sighs, frowning. “This person went missing the night before last. Timing seems too close to be coincidence. So you think these people were killed in their homes and their bodies taken for some reason?”

Derek shakes his head. “No. This isn’t the scent of a fresh kill. This is different – like, a body that has been decomposing was brought in.”

“That’s unsettling,” the sheriff rubs his temple with blunt fingers. “All right, well, that’s more to go on than we had before I suppose. Does anything about that smell ring any bells for your specific field of expertise?”

 

**

Derek kicks the front door closed behind him when they get home from the store. “I was thinking we could do the fajitas tonight; your dad said something about missing steak at lunch earlier and it got me in the mood.”

“You sure you don’t want to call my dad first and get his opinion,” Stiles mutters moodily as he sets the groceries down on the kitchen island.

“What is your problem lately, Stiles?” Derek drops his own armload of bags on the counter and throws his hands up in exasperation. “You’ve been pissy all week whenever I even mention your dad.”

“Because he’s _my_ dad!” Stiles finally shouts. “I’m so sick of not being able to see my own fucking father, all right? You guys are always having lunch together and talking shop. Here at home or at his house, you bond over which team has the worst second baseman that week. I can’t remember the last time I had a single hour alone with him in weeks!”

Derek stops and stares. “What – ”

Stiles kicks the end of the couch, furious. “I get it, okay? You – he’s the only parental figure you’ve got. I know. But I’m tired of sharing him to the point of exclusion!” He runs his hands through his hair in agitation, missing the look of absolute devastation on Derek’s face at his words.

“I – I can’t believe you would say something so _selfish_ ,” Derek whispers hoarsely. He grabs his keys from the bowl next to the door with a shaky hand. “I’m sorry. I had no idea you felt that way.” He doesn’t wait for a response as he opens the door. “I need to…go. Drive. I’ll be out for a while, okay? Just – I need some time.” 

Stricken and in disbelief of his own callous words, Stiles can only watch as Derek walks out of their home. His eyes sting and he shakes his head, unable to grasp what he just said to his husband. He sniffs sharply and rubs his eye with the base of his palm, then starts to slowly unpack the groceries. Stiles figures he’ll give it about twenty minutes then try to call Derek to apologize, knowing they both need to regroup in their heads before they talk it out. 

Distracted and upset, he doesn’t notice the cloying smell of rot nearby, only noticing movement out of the corner of his eye a second too late. There is a shrill hiss and his shout is cut off abruptly.

**

By the time Derek is ready to come home and talk to Stiles like an adult, three hours have passed and it is nearly nine o’clock at night. He is actually kind of surprised Stiles let that much time go without reaching out first; usually Stiles will call him within an hour after they fight. 

The lights are still on when he gets home and the door is unlocked, so he tosses his keys into the wooden bowl on the table nearby. “Stiles?” he calls out but is greeted with silence. Derek listens for a moment but there is no sign of anyone else in the house. There is not even the reassuring sound of a familiar heartbeat.

An unwelcome feeling settles in his stomach and he steps into the kitchen where he had last left Stiles. In there he is shaken to his core when he notices a now recognizable smell.

Derek scrambles to pull out his cell and quickly dials. The sheriff answers on the third ring. “Derek?”

“Stiles – he’s gone,” Derek says in a rush, heart racing. “We had a fight and I left – I left him here and now he’s gone – ”

“Whoa, hang on a second, son,” the sheriff says calmly. “Are you at home? Have you tried calling his phone? Is his car gone?”

“His car’s here – his phone is on the counter,” Derek answers even as he spots the cell for the first time. “But that’s not…he didn’t just leave. That smell from before, the one from the houses today. It’s here. I can smell that decaying corpse _here_.”

Derek can hear the sheriff swear under his breath and there’s a rustle of clothing and keys on the other end of the line. “I’m on my way. Don’t touch _anything_.”

“I won’t,” Derek promises. “But I think I should call Deaton. We don’t have much to work with but there is definitely a pattern.” _And now Stiles is the third part of that pattern._

“Do it. Tell him what we know so far and have him meet us at your place. I should be there in about ten minutes.” With that, the call ends and Derek is left with a silent house and a sense of dread burning bright in his chest.

**

When the sheriff arrives, he finds Derek sitting on the couch, utterly still. After taking a habitual, cursory glance around the living room and the visible parts of the kitchen, he quickly makes his way over and sits next to Derek. The expression on Derek’s face when he finally glances up is full of guilt and devastation. “What did Deaton say?”

“Not much, big surprise,” Derek responds. “He should be here anytime, though.”

“Look, you know as well as I do that we can’t assume the worst, all right? We do that, we’ll get nowhere in solving this thing. This is my _kid_ we’re talking about here and I am fucking _terrified_ that anything has happened to him. But we’re going to stay focused and get to the bottom of this. You hear me?”

Derek looks up and the sheriff can see him struggling to keep his composure – his husband, his mate is in danger and there is nothing Derek can do. There is a silent, internal battle that Derek eventually seems to overcome and his face takes on a look of determination. “We’re going to find him.”

“That’s the plan,” the sheriff tells him firmly. He sees Derek perk up and recognizes the look. “Hear something?”

“Deaton’s here.”

**

After giving the vet a rundown of the two open missing persons cases and how Derek identified the common factor in all three disappearances, Deaton turns to Derek. “Stiles went missing tonight, within the last few hours. After the two of you had an argument?”

Derek nods and his eyes become sad. He shoots a glance over at the sheriff before he explains. “Stiles has been moody recently whenever I mentioned you,” he starts. “I didn’t understand what the problem was until tonight when I finally confronted him about his attitude recently. He – he said that he was sick of having to share his father to the point where he felt excluded. That you were his father, not mine.”

The sheriff looks as shocked at those words as Derek had felt earlier. “That doesn’t sound like him at all. Christ, I had no idea. He never said anything, even on the days when we do get together,” he says gruffly. 

“No, it didn’t,” Derek agrees and scrubs a hand over his face. “I couldn’t believe he would say something like that, let alone had those kinds of feelings. It’s just not like him. He is usually much better at communicating when something bothers him, but he must have been keeping it pent up inside for awhile now. He finally just blew up at me.”

Deaton hums and turns to Derek again. “Was anything else said?”

A look of guilt flashes across Derek’s face. “I accused him of being selfish and told him I was going for a drive. Then I left. He didn’t say anything else.” 

There is a moment of pause as the three men process Derek’s version of the evening. Deaton frowns, pulling a book from the stack he had brought. “’Selfish?’ You are positive you used that word?”

Derek startles at the question but nods. “Yes. I said I couldn’t believe he would say something so selfish.”

The vet checks the book’s contents page then rifles through to the middle. “And the scent you detected in all three locations was very distinctly that of a decaying human corpse?”

“You think I could mix that up with what? Blueberry pancakes?” Derek shoots him a withering look. “Yes. Rotten human body smell. Very common among other brunch foods.”

There’s a snort nearby and Derek catches the sheriff covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

Deaton ignores Derek’s sarcasm and settles on a page in the book. “There is a mythological creature whose story does contain those two specific characteristics. Here – the Jikininki,” he pushes the book forward so the other men can see the gruesome sketch displayed on the page. “There are variations of this creature’s myth in various cultures, such as the Wendigo. However, the traits you described are unique to the Japanese version of the story.

The rough translation of the name is ‘human-eating ghost’ and as you can gather from that, it is thought to be the resurrected ghost that comes back to eat the newly dead corpses of humans. As with any mythology there are different versions. Commonly, these Jikininki were the ghosts of humans who were selfish in their previous lives and due to this flaw in their personalities, they are doomed to a fate of hunting down and devouring the corpses of the recently deceased.”

“But Stiles isn’t dead,” Derek cuts in with a harsh whisper. “He isn’t – ”

The sheriff puts a hand on Derek’s shoulder, to comfort his son-in-law as much as himself. “Alan – ”

“I am not implying that the missing persons, including Stiles, have been killed,” Deaton assures them evenly. “While it is a possibility, I doubt that is the case. We have very little information to go on at this point and frankly, we have found too many new permutations of old mythology in our town in recent years to make assumptions based on antiquated legends. This is merely a possible jumping off point for tracking down those that have gone missing.”

Still visibly upset but momentarily placated, the other two men nod their understanding. Derek licks his dry lips before speaking up. “Okay. Let’s go over what we know and try to tie it back to the mythology here. We have three people who have disappeared from their homes without a sign of a struggle or reports of anyone noticing suspicious activity. None of the three have any connection to one another and as far as we know, Stiles is the only one of them with any knowledge of the supernatural. The places they went missing from all share the rotting corpse smell that we may be able to link to the ‘ghost’ – the ghost who is possibly a resurrected human that feeds on recently deceased humans.” Derek pauses and visibly swallows, clearly sickened by the thought. “If these Jikininki are known to eat dead bodies, why would it be taking living persons?”

Deaton raises his eyebrows. “In contemporary times, would it go unnoticed if the bodies of recently buried dead suddenly began disappearing? There is a level of security in cemeteries and morgues today that would make grave robbing and body snatching far too likely to raise suspicion.”

“Wait, hold on,” the sheriff interrupts and snaps his fingers. “Body snatching.”

Both Derek and Deaton look at him in disbelief. “Has there been a recent trend of body snatching in town that you didn’t tell me about?” Derek asks incredulously.

“No, but there is an investigation open from three weeks ago. The body of a six-year old girl went missing from the morgue,” the sheriff tells them with sorrow coloring his tone. “Both the morgue and the funeral home thought it was a clerical error in the transfer process. The paperwork to release the body to the home was signed by the girl’s mother but the body itself never made it. Each party involved denies responsibility and we’re stuck in a loop of finger pointing.”

“Could this be another victim of the Jikininki?” Derek asks.

Deaton is the one to answer. “The timing seems too coincidental to be ignored but it doesn’t fit the pattern. The three missing persons were all taken alive, while the girl was already deceased at the time her body went missing.”

The sheriff grimaces. “I need to speak to the girl’s mother again. At the time, there was no reason to doubt her story but with all of this in mind I can’t help but wonder if her behavior was out of the ordinary for the situation. When I interviewed her, she seemed distracted and distant, nervous more than distressed. Like maybe she was hiding something.”

Derek straightens and presents him an unwavering stare. “I’m going with you.”

With a nod of agreement, the sheriff checks his pockets for his car keys. “We’re doing this right. If we’re walking into a situation where we’ve got the possibility of at least three hostages and a woman who may or may not be a freaking body-eating ghost, we are going in with all the help we can get. Deaton, you’re coming with us to interview this woman. Derek, you call in your pack – I want Scott, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Kira – everyone. They’re going to meet us at the woman’s house and stand by in case we need them. I’m calling Parrish to meet us there as official and unofficial backup from the legal side.”

“You may want to have Mrs. McCall available as well,” Deaton points out as he gathers his books, preparing to leave. “The best outcome we can hope for is to need her medical skills to ensure the well-being of our missing group. In the meantime, I am going to pick up some supplies at the clinic. Text me the address and I can be there within the hour.”

“Then we’ve got a plan. One hour, everyone meets a block from the house. I’ll have Derek with me. We’ll make the calls, swing by my place for my service weapon, badge and Melissa and then head out. Is there anything else we need to know, Doctor?”

“Stay safe.”

**

It is just past midnight and a group of determined looking people gather next to their parked cars on the deserted street. There are few houses in this part of town, scattered and separated by thick stretches of trees. Scott and Kira look a mixture of livid and scared, the three betas are huddled together with a terrifying focus in their eyes. Derek is emotionally exhausted from the day in general but is more than ready to get to the bottom of this mystery. 

Most importantly, all of the werewolves had confirmed that they could detect the smell that Derek had described coming from the house at the end of the street.

The sheriff checks his weapon and surveys his group. “You all know why we’re here but keep in mind we have no evidence or confirmation that this woman is connected to Stiles’ disappearance or that of the others. Derek, Parrish, Deaton and I will be going in to talk to her. I know all of us want to rush in and take action, but we are going to do this with the law in mind. This is a woman who recently lost her child; the mother’s name is Samantha Del Castillo and her daughter’s name was Breanna. I know all of you can understand the sensitive nature of the circumstances. If we determine just cause, I’ll have Derek call you guys in. Until then, you’ll stay here and wait for our signal.”

There is a round of affirmative nods and mumblings of assent. Scott and Kira shift closer together in support, their own small child at home with her grandmother on their mind. 

**

The four men take the sheriff’s cruiser up to the house and park in the driveway. They clamber out together and make their way up to the front door; Parrish and the sheriff take the lead in their official capacity, badges and weapons visible. Derek is just behind them, grim and mute. Bringing up the rear is Deaton with his leather messenger bag at his side.

The face of a haggard woman greets them after several minutes of knocking. She is younger than Derek had imagined, around Derek’s own age. She frowns as she takes in the odd assembly on her doorstep in the middle of the night. “Can I help you, Sheriff?” she says softly. “It’s really late.”

“I apologize for the unannounced visit, ma’am,” the sheriff tells her in an equally hushed voice in respect to the late hour. “There have been some recent developments that have led us to believe your daughter’s missing body may be connected to three missing persons cases. May we come inside to talk?”

She scowls at the group and purses her lips in annoyance. “This couldn’t wait until morning?”

“One of the missing people is my son. He disappeared from his home tonight.”

Samantha’s eyes widen and her face pales, gasping softly. “No,” she whispers, covering her mouth. “No, no, no…”

“Ma’am?” the sheriff stiffens and puts his hand up to stop Derek from rushing forward. Even without the werewolf senses, the sheriff could almost smell the distress and guilt pouring from the woman. “Ma’am, we need to come inside now and take a look around. Do you understand?”

“I – no, you don’t understand, we never meant – ”

They don’t let her finish before pushing past her. Derek takes the lead and listens closely to the sounds of the house. The only movement he can just faintly detect is coming from below his feet. “Basement,” he spits out as he darts toward the door next to the kitchen. He wrenches the door open and is running down the stairs by the time the others moved to follow.

Derek can hardly breathe for the thickness of the stench down there, the now too-familiar sickly sweet odor of decay nearly overwhelming. At the bottom of the stone steps he pauses in shock. Along every wall is a gleaming silver storage freezer, the kind that Derek always thought look too much like coffins. There are eight that he can see, but their sides too thick to determine if they are occupied.

Behind him he can hear the sheriff stumble to a halt with the others close behind. “The hell? Ms. Del Castillo, I need to know what exactly is happening here. Did you take my son?”

Derek registers the sound of Samantha choking out a sob and he turns around abruptly. “Where is Stiles?”

“She wasn’t supposed to take someone _good_ ,” Samantha shouts back with a snarl. “That’s not what we _do_.”

The sheriff grabs her arm to get her attention back on him. “Who? Who took him?”

“Breanna,” she answers as fresh tears run down her cheek. “You don’t understand, she’s so young, she wasn’t supposed to be so _young_ and she doesn’t know how…”

“Your daughter? The girl – the missing body, _she’s_ the one taking – ”

Deaton finally steps in between the frantic woman and the sheriff. “We need to focus on the most urgent matter. Ma’am, are the people who were abducted still alive?”

Samantha closes her eyes and hiccups. “Most…of them. Not the first, uh, two. There are four in stasis in the freezers. The most recent ones.”

“Six? There have been _six_ and we only just noticed?” The sheriff gapes at her. “How…you know what – no. I’ll get to that later. Which of these freezers have survivors?”

Derek puts his hand on his father-in-law’s back but addresses his question to Samantha. “Where is Breanna?”

“She’s out hunting,” Samantha replies reluctantly. “But she will be back any time; she never stays out much past midnight.”

As if her words have summoned the girl, there is a shrill hissing sound from the top of the stairs and all five of them look up to see the visage of a ghostly child standing above them. Unlike the picture in the book Deaton had shown them, the girl is not ghastly or ghoulish as they had expected. She is simply a _child_ , pale with red-rimmed eyes, the tips of her ears and nose bright as if from the cold.

“They’re _mine_ ,” she growls with a force that startles them all. With unnatural quickness she is suddenly there with them in the basement, her back against one of the freezers protectively. 

“Holy shit,” the sheriff says, voicing what Derek himself is thinking: that the mother was telling the truth and none of them had wanted to believe something so appalling could be real. 

“Samantha,” Deaton addresses the woman while keeping his eyes on the Jikininki child. “I need your full cooperation right now. You know what Breanna is and you know better than any of us why she must be stopped. You know that she cannot continue to roam this world.”

“We’re not _monsters_ ,” Samantha growls at him in return. “Our kind have a purpose!”

Deaton sees Derek take a step closer to the girl and puts his hand up to stop him. “While the Jikininki are relatively unknown to me, I do have a much more general knowledge of supernatural beings. That said, I can assure you that while every being has a purpose, the purpose of your kind is not to murder innocents.”

She moves to stand in front of her daughter protectively. “Breanna doesn’t know any better,” she pleads with them. “We don’t usually die as children; it’s almost unheard of. She had a birth defect…it was only a matter of time and I didn’t have enough. Not enough time to teach her about what we _do_.”

“The ‘hungry ghosts’ are historically known for consuming the corpses of the society’s monsters – the selfish, the greedy,” Deaton continues on her behalf to show his insight. “But you know that is not what Breanna is doing. The sheriff’s son is a very good friend to us all and one of the best people I know. A moment of heightened negative emotions, an argument between partners, may have caught her interest but it does not exempt you from correcting her mistakes.”

Samantha takes another step back to shield her daughter. “I’m _trying_ , I swear. I am trying to teach her but she’s not old enough to understand the difference.”

“I am sorry for your loss, but Breanna must not be allowed to continue to exist on this plain, “ Deaton tells her calmly. He shifts his bag toward the front of his body and slowly opens the flap. “There are ways to send her along her way; I have prepared one that will cause her no harm or distress. It is a simple powder comprised of the right combination of materials needed to push her out of our world. I need you to let me do my job now, Samantha.” As he speaks, he pulls out a jar he had put together earlier at his clinic.

Her face contorts as she works through her inner struggle to choose between her instinct as a mother and her deeply seeded knowledge of her own nature. The whole room remains silent and tense as they give her a moment to make her own decision rather than take it out of her hands. 

Finally, Samantha chokes out a sob and takes two quick steps to the side, exposing the girl. 

Then everything seems to happen at once. Deaton moves forward and there is an unholy shriek from Breanna. Her eyes go a bright, demonic red and her teeth sharpen as she hisses defensively. There is just enough of a delay before she launches herself at Deaton for Derek to intervene with his reflexes. He gets in front of Deaton, ignoring the shouts from behind and around him.

Razor-like teeth sink into the meat of his forearm and he howls at the unexpectedly painful sting. There’s a flash of white dust in front of him and as suddenly as the attack started it is over. A flash of white light and the stinging smell of ozone lasts for only seconds and the space that the girl had been in is abruptly empty. Despite the painful proof of her physical form in the bites on his arm, her entire existence is completely wiped out. In the distance, he can hear the rest of his pack charging toward the house from down the block, drawn by his howl and the shouts from the sheriff, Deaton and Parrish. Closer, he can hear the mother’s agonized cries as she mourns her child a second time.

But everything around him seems like it is wrapped in cotton, muted and far away. He looks down at his arm and sees the twin bite marks slowly oozing blood and something else. Something clear and shiny, tingling on his skin where it was streaked. 

There’s a voice next to his ear and he looks up, blinking slowly at the faces in front of him. Deaton is talking, asking him questions but Derek can’t understand him. There’s another long moment where he turns and sees the sheriff’s worried expression before Derek’s legs finally stop supporting him and he drops without warning.

**

“Shit,” the sheriff swears as he and Deaton lunge forward to break Derek’s fall. Together, they lower him carefully to the ground and Deaton immediately checks for a pulse. “What the hell happened?”

Deaton looks up with a frown. “I think it’s safe to assume that the Jikininki use a venomous bite to subdue their prey. There was no information in my research about it, but details are often lost over the years as stories are passed down through second- and third-hand knowledge.”

While Deaton continues to check on Derek’s condition, the sheriff looks up and around, taking in the rest of the room. Samantha is lost in her grief, sitting with her back to the wall as she weeps into her hands. Parrish is standing next to her looking lost. The sheriff can tell Parrish is torn between arresting her and comforting her.

From upstairs there is a loud crack as the front door is flung open with unnatural strength, followed by the pounding of several pairs of feet across the floor and finally down the stone stairs.

Scott is the first to make it down and he makes a beeline for the sheriff though his eyes are taking in the whole scene as he kneels. Melissa is a second behind him and she takes the lead, asking Deaton questions. With Derek in good hands, Scott straightens back up while the sheriff rises to his feet a little slower. “Where?”

“In the freezers,” the sheriff tells him. He takes a breath and begins issuing orders. “Parrish, stay there with Samantha. Call for backup and paramedics. We’ve got four survivors in here with what I assume are severe cases of hypothermia and poisoning from whatever that girl’s venom contains. Scott and Kira, I need you to start getting these freezers open and find the four we were told are still alive. The mother said there were two dead, the first ones that were taken, so that means Stiles is alive and in one of those damn things. Check on their status, triage for transport by their condition. The worst goes with the first ambulance to get here. Deaton – any update on Derek?”

As the others scatter and begin their tasks, Deaton answers. “He is only sleeping as far as we can tell. We can use the lab work on the human survivors to determine what kind of chemical makeup that venom has, but considering he has shown no other symptoms so far I would cautiously presume it works as a simple but powerful sedative. Even with his supernatural healing, werewolves would still show the initial symptoms of any kind of poisoning like humans would, though they frequently work them out of their systems more quickly.”

“Why hasn’t he woken up yet?”

“This was an attack from a supernatural being, not a manmade or natural substance. Werewolves are not immune to all things; remember, he suffered the same effects from the Kanima’s venom as Stiles did.” 

The sheriff groans and rubs his face. “We can’t risk taking him to the hospital when we don’t know how soon he’ll wake up or if it will mess with his control,” he says. “Parrish! ETA on the medics?”

“First couple should be here in about eight minutes, two more are coming from the station on the other side of town, probably fifteen out,” Parrish responds quickly.

“All right,” the sheriff nods and turns to the three Betas who are still standing nearby and watching the chaos around them, Erica chewing on her thumbnail. “Boyd and Isaac, you two will need to carry Derek out of here and back to your car down the block. Erica, stay with Parrish and keep an ear out for our backup. Deaton, would you mind taking him back to your clinic and keep an eye on him until we get some more information on the venom, assuming the hospital lab will come up with anything useful?”

Deaton nodded easily and stood out of the way so the boys could get a hold of Derek’s limp form. “Not a problem, Sheriff. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

“I’ll do the same,” the sheriff assures him and turns away as Boyd and Isaac carefully haul Derek up the stairs, followed by Deaton. He turns to see that Melissa has moved on to where Scott is standing next to a newly opened freezer.

Scott turns at that moment and gives him a grimace. It is Melissa who speaks first. “This one looks pretty rough, probably been here for a week. The freezers should have killed these people after only a few hours but this is a seriously advance setup they’ve got down here. Oxygen, climate controls on the boxes; I’d guess the girl bit them every few days to keep them sleeping based on the pair of bite marks on this one. That at least gives us a rough timeframe for how long the effects of the venom last on humans.”

The sheriff steps closer, glancing over to see that Kira and Scott have moved on to the fourth box, working together to break the complicated locking system. No one had been able to get Samantha to assist in any way and couldn’t take the time to push her. He looks into the box and winces. “Yeah, that’s the one who went missing last week. What else have you found?”

“Besides things I wish I had never seen? First freezer was an older body, likely been dead for several days. There were – pieces missing.”

“Jesus,” the sheriff hisses. “Thank god that thing only eats the bodies once they’re dead. And I can’t believe it’s come down to me saying something like that.”

Melissa gives him a tight smile in acknowledgement. “The second one was also alive, probably been there a little less – maybe five days?”

“There were only two we knew about before Stiles, one went missing a week ago, the other three days ago. Sounds like you found one of the ones we didn’t know about yet.”

“We found Stiles!” Scott shouts from where he and Kira have opened the fourth occupied freezer. 

Melissa and the sheriff nearly collide in their hurry to get to where Stiles is being held. The sheriff gasps and reaches a hand down to touch his son’s forehead, flinching at the white, frozen skin. “Oh, hell…”

“He’s only been here for a few hours,” Melissa reminds him as she checks Stiles’ vitals. “I know it looks bad but he is in the best condition of all the victims here. His body temp is low and he’s under the effect of the venom but he is stable. Scott, there’s still one unaccounted for that we expect to still be alive – check the other freezers.”

Scott swallows hard and visibly struggles to comply. But his hesitation is overcome with the need to find the last survivor and he moves on to the other boxes, leaving his best friend to his mother’s capable hands.

The sheriff leans as close as he can to his son while staying out of her way. “Should we take them out or wait for the medics?”

Melissa frowns and carefully touches Stiles’ exposed skin on his hands and face. “As much as I want to get him out, I think we should wait. I can’t risk moving him when I can’t see if there are any other injuries from either the girl or from being kept in here, even for just a handful of hours.”

Erica calls out from beside Parrish. “I can hear a siren, sounds like one of your cars rather than an ambulance.”

“Good,” the sheriff says as he straightens up. “Parrish, take Samantha upstairs and get her to the station. Book and process her for now and call Agent McCall. This is a kidnapping case in addition to serial murder, we’re handing it to the feds.”

“Yes, sir,” Parrish says with relief on his face. No doubt he is grateful to be passing this case on so he doesn’t have to figure out the explanations and paperwork. He and Erica get the woman to her feet and together they lead her upstairs to meet one of the sheriff’s department cars pulling up to the house.

The sheriff looks around to take in who is left. He still has Melissa, who has moved on to where Scott and Kira have located the final missing person across the room. Left with the comatose Stiles, he closes his eyes and says a silent, thankful prayer now that he has a brief moment of calm.

A few minutes later, more sirens can be heard and the pounding of feet on the cement stairs heralds the arrival of the paramedics. The sheriff stays next to his son and lets Melissa lead the medics through the situation. Quick voices barking instructions and the organized chaos of the survivors being transported fills the next hour until only the sheriff and four deputies who have made their way down to the basement are left. 

“All right people,” he says while watching his son being carefully carried up the stairs on a stretcher, oxygen mask and piles of blankets obscuring his form. “This is one for the FBI. I need the crime scene secured until we get agents here to start processing. Two of you stay here and start putting up tape and markers on the outside of the house. The other two, do a sweep of the house to double check for any other inhabitants or survivors we may have missed. It was absolute chaos earlier and we may have missed something.”

There is a chorus of assent and finally the sheriff trudges up the stairs. It feels like he has been there for days but he knows it has only been a couple of hours. His son is safe, three other people have been rescued. Scott, Kira and Erica are waiting on the front porch where they watch Stiles being loaded for transport to the hospital, Melissa climbing in with him now that the last of the victims are clear and her presence no longer needed on site. The other three ambulances have already left. 

It’s over and the sheriff has no idea where to even begin sorting out the mess of the evening. He is more than ready to hand the whole thing over to the feds but knows that everyone who was there that night will need to make a statement. They need to get their stories straight and figure out how to build the case against Samantha, who would be taking the blame for everything. There was no other way.

He feels Scott’s hand on his back and looks at the three of them. They all look the same way he feels – tired and relieved. 

Without speaking, Scott, Kira and Erica make their way back to where their cars were left down the block and the sheriff heads for his own cruiser. With the administrative part of his job being handled by his deputies and eventually the FBI, he is free to follow his son to the hospital. 

**

It takes three days for Stiles to wake up. The best that the doctors can figure is that the venom in the victim’s bodies has a life of about seventy-two hours. There is a creative cover story about forced snake bites to explain the wounds and toxin present in the blood work. All four survivors began to show signs of consciousness within a few hours, supporting the theory that they were dosed at the same intervals to keep them comatose.

The sheriff had handed over the case to Agent McCall the afternoon after the rescue. Statements were taken, Samantha was transferred to federal custody, and Agent McCall had looked overwhelmed and frankly annoyed when the sheriff had wished him luck writing up this one.

In those three days, the sheriff and Deaton have been constantly in contact, exchanging information as it is discovered. Derek remains asleep and the best Deaton can figure is that because he was bitten twice on the arm, his body had taken in a larger dose of the venom. The supernatural origin of the toxin means his body cannot metabolize it quicker than the average human. Derek was taken to his and Stiles’ house on the day after he was attacked to sleep it off. The betas, Deaton and the sheriff rotate between the hospital and the house, taking turns watching over both Derek and Stiles in turns.

Naturally, when Stiles is conscious enough to be aware of his surroundings he looks at his father with a confused frown and the first words out of his mouth are, “Where’s Derek?”

The sheriff rubs a hand over his tired face and rolls his neck before explaining everything that has happened from the last thing Stiles can remember. It takes nearly an hour.

Stiles is released late in the afternoon the day he wakes up since the doctors can find nothing else wrong with him and no reason to hold him any longer. His father drives him back to his and Derek’s house to find Deaton there with Derek.

“It’s good to see you well, Stiles,” Deaton tells him softly as he lays a gentle hand on Stiles’ upper arm. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired but good,” Stiles answers with a small smile. “How is Derek?”

Deaton sighs and glances back toward the couple’s bedroom door. “There is no sign of him waking yet, but I am cautiously optimistic that he will regain consciousness sometime tomorrow based on the timeframe of your own recovery and the slightly higher dose of venom from the bites he received. Other than being asleep, he is in good health. The bites on his arm have healed with only minimal scarring that will fade soon.”

The sheriff interrupts to guide his son toward the couch. “Take a load off, kid,” he says. “Derek is fine and you need to rest.”

Stiles groans as he sits, leaning his head against the back and closing his eyes. “I hate this.”

Deaton clears his throat and picks up his messenger bag. “Now that you’re home, I’ll leave Derek in your care. Please call me if he shows any signs of distress or if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Alan,” the sheriff says as the vet leaves. He joins Stiles on the couch and wraps an arm around his son’s shoulders. Stiles hums contentedly and leans in to his father’s embrace. “We didn’t get a chance to talk about what happened between you and Derek the night you were taken,” he starts. “You up for it?”

“Yeah,” Stiles answers with a sigh. “We…had a fight. Did Derek tell you about it?”

“He did, but I want to hear your side.”

“It’s stupid,” Stiles wrinkles his nose and plucks his sweatpants with his fingers. “Now that I’ve had a chance to think about it I feel so dumb.”

The sheriff shakes his son a little with his hand. “Arguments with your husband always feel like that after the fact. But the feelings that led up to it are legitimate and you can’t just brush them off.”

“I know,” Stiles replies softly. “I guess I was feeling left out. It was just you and me for so long, I got used to being able to hang with you anytime. Having to share you with Derek is fine, I love the fact that you guys are friends, you know? I love Derek, I love that you accepted him so easily. That is not the problem. I just – it seems like recently every time I want to have lunch with you, you guys already have plans. Derek comes home and talks about the stuff you guys worked on that day. That used to be my thing with you, doing the monster research gig and I just keep getting these reminders that I’ve got a grown up job and a grown up life, that I don’t have the freedom to help the way he can.”

“You are the most important person in my life. You know that. Derek is important to me too – he’s important to me because he’s important to you. We didn’t realize how much time we were spending together. Neither of us meant to make you feel left out and for that, I’m sorry,” Stiles’ dad says in return. “I’ll try to make sure you don’t feel like that again and I’m sure Derek will do the same.”

Stiles sniffs softly and nods, his hair tickling his father’s chin. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Love you.”

“Love you too, son,” the sheriff says, dropping a kiss on his son’s head. “You think you’ll be okay tonight on your own or you want me to stay?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Stiles answers and sits up slowly. “Sleepy. I’ll probably just head for bed after I check on Derek. He’ll probably sleep for another two days, the drama queen.”

The sheriff snorts and stands up. He rubs a hand over Stiles’ head to ruffle his hair. “I’ll choose to believe Deaton for now and assume Derek will come around tomorrow. Call me if you need anything; I’ll stop by on my way to work in the morning to check on the two of you.”

“Sounds good,” Stiles smiles. “You got my key with you?”

“Yeah, I’ll lock up on my way out.”

“Thank you.”

**

Once his father has left, Stiles takes another minute before pushing himself up to go check on his husband. He makes his way down the hall to their bedroom and pauses at the open doorway to look at Derek’s sleeping form. The lamp on Derek’s nightstand is on, casting a warm yellow light. 

Stiles moves into the room and sits on the side of the bed. His hand moves without conscious effort and sweeps over Derek’s forehead. The last time he had seen Derek, their fight was fresh; Derek’s devastated expression as he left their home still causes Stiles’ chest to tighten painfully. 

He swallows hard and rubs his eye with his palm. “I love you,” he whispers then leans down to brush his lips over Derek’s unmoving ones. 

After a quick shower to wash the hospital smell off his body and brushing his teeth, Stiles changes into a clean t-shirt and boxers. He crawls into the bed next to Derek and quickly falls asleep with his fingers gripped loosely around Derek’s.

**

Stiles is eating cereal in the kitchen the next morning when he hears a quick knock on the front door followed by the jingle of keys as his father lets himself in. “Morning,” Stiles calls out with his mouth full.

“Morning to you too,” the sheriff says as he walks into the kitchen. In his hand is a bouquet of bright spring flowers.

“I’m flattered, father of mine, but I happen to be married.” Stiles jokes.

The sheriff snorts. “They’re for Derek.”

Stiles wriggles his eyebrows. “He’s married too.” He laughs as his dad smacks his head lightly. “What’s up with the flowers?”

“Derek awake yet?”

“Nah, still drooling,” Stiles answers. “And stop avoiding the question.”

“They’re for Derek, from you,” the sheriff finally explains. “When he does wake up and he’s ready to talk, you’ve got some pretty heavy groveling to do.” He sets the bunch down on the kitchen island.

Stiles nods in agreement and gives a small smile. “Thanks,” he stands to give his father a hug. “For the flowers and for all the other crap from the last few days. You’ve been so great to both of us and I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime, kiddo,” the sheriff replies as he returns the embrace. “Gotta head in to work. You need anything?”

“Nope, I think this about covers it.”

“All right.” The sheriff claps him one last time on the shoulder before leaving.

Stiles looks at the flowers for a few minute as he finishes his cereal. When he’s done, he takes care of his dishes, picks up the bouquet and heads back to their room to wait. He sets the flowers on his nightstand and settles with his laptop on the window seat he insisted on having in their bedroom.

By early afternoon Stiles has finished catching up on the last few days of the internet and is stretching lazily against his cushions when he notices he is being watched. He grins when his eyes meet Derek’s. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Derek answers a half second too late, his voice rough from sleep. He shifts as he struggles to sit up and Stiles is there in a heartbeat to help. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” Stiles says quietly. “How do you feel?” He grabs the bottle of water he left on the nightstand and hands it to Derek. He leaves his hand resting on Derek’s thigh out of habit.

Derek drinks half the bottle in a few seconds before answering. “Not bad.”

“Okay. Good, that’s good,” Stiles says awkwardly. 

“Can I assume that if we’re here and you’re obviously okay - thank god - then everything worked out?”

Stiles heaves a huge sigh. “You should see the stack of paperwork on Dad’s desk. He is almost giddy that he gets to hand the whole thing over to the feds. We can go over the details later. But for now, listen, I have a lot to say and apologize for so do you need a little time to be functional? Like, mentally?”

Derek cracks his neck and shifts his body back to lean against the headboard. “Nah, I’m good. But you don’t need to – ”

“Yes I do,” Stiles cuts in. “I do because I had no right to say such selfish and hurtful things to you and I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, no – you don’t have to apologize for having feelings,” Derek tries to assure Stiles.

Stiles shakes his head, blinking tears back. “You’re my family,” he finally says in a broken voice. “Dad was all I had for so long but now I have you. I’d forgotten how to share, you know? Didn’t know what it felt like anymore to have this in my life.”

Derek’s eyes go soft. “I get that.”

“I’m a selfish asshole,” Stiles tells him bluntly. Derek tries to interrupt, to deny the confession, but Stiles shushes him abruptly. “No, listen. It’s been just me and my dad since I was ten. Me and Scott against the cruel world of middle and high school. I didn’t have anyone at home to talk to besides my dad when he wasn’t at work, or any friends at school to vent to besides Scott. I’ve had ten years of them being mine and when we grew up, when this whole wolf thing happened, I started having to share. I had to share Scott with Allison, with the pack. I had imaginary love with Lydia and when Scott butted into that after he first turned, even unintentionally, it pissed me off. Lydia was mine; only in my mind, but I couldn’t share her with him. I lashed out pretty hard.”

“I can’t believe you would treat Scott like that,” Derek retorts with a ghost of a smile.

Stiles raises his eyebrows in challenge. “Oh, you think I wouldn’t? On his first full moon he lost his damn mind and kissed Lydia. Then he rubbed it in my face that night. So I chained him to the radiator in my room. Left him with a dog bowl full of water that I wrote his name on with a Sharpie.”

Derek gapes at his husband in disbelief. “Holy shit. How have I not seen this side of you after two years of marriage?”

Stiles shrugs. “I’m good at hiding it. But back to the point. I’ve had my dad to myself for so long that I forgot what it was like to share his attention. Then the two of us happened and now I’m sharing my dad with you. That’s – it’s not a bad thing, Derek. Believe me, you are something I can’t even believe how lucky I am to have. But it means sharing my dad’s attention with someone else and it just threw me. It’s immature and I’m fully aware that I need to get over it. It’s going to take time and I’ll probably have more of these insecure moments where I don’t know how to handle you and my dad doing stuff together. But I can only promise to do my best to not be selfish in the future. To let you bond with my dad over bad action movies and bad baseball teams – “

“Hey, the Dodgers – “

“Are a filthy smear on the face of the glorious tradition of New York baseball – “

“Look, I know you love the Mets for reasons I cannot begin to understand but you realize that the Dodgers moved out of Brooklyn in 1957, which I should point out is a good forty years before you were born – “

Stiles’ grin grows as he listens to Derek, cutting him off with a kiss. “It’s a mark of my maturity that I’m going to let this one go for now. But we’re seriously off track here.”

“You’re right,” Derek’s face falls slightly as he is reminded of why they are here to begin with. “What you said the other night…it hurt. You know how much it means to me that your father has accepted me as his son-in-law. I’m so grateful for the fact that he has welcomed me so fully into your close family unit and into your lives. But when you said you were sick of sharing…I had no idea what to think. I felt like you were cutting me out of your family.”

“God,” Stiles chokes out and rubs his nose with the back of his hand, eyes stinging. “I never meant for you to feel that. I was completely out of line and I can only promise to try never to say anything like that again.”

Derek reaches down and takes Stiles’ other hand still resting on his leg. “Promise me that if you ever feel left out or upset by anything that I do, you will talk to me.”

“I promise,” Stiles says without hesitation. “I love you so much.”

Derek’s eyes grow fond and he huffs a laugh. “I love you, too. Now give me my flowers.”

Stiles laughs lightly, the weight lifted from his shoulders as he hands Derek the beautiful apology bouquet. He kneels up so he can wrap Derek in a tight embrace, the crinkle of the plastic wrapper against his back loud in the quiet room.

 

[Art by bicanthrope on tumblr](http://bicanthrope.tumblr.com/post/124928610990/corruptible-morals-and-monsters-by-surreal666)

**

End

**Author's Note:**

> (SPOILERS):
> 
> Onscreen (non-graphic) death of original child character and references to the child’s death. The child is NOT in any way related to any canon characters. This is vital to the plot of the story and will be understood in context. I cannot give more specific detail than that, as it would completely spoil the story. However, if the idea of a child’s death is a trigger for you, however non-graphic, please either avoid this story or proceed with caution. The story and its themes are canon-typical.


End file.
